


Four Times Jin Fails...

by myxstorie



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band), NewS (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myxstorie/pseuds/myxstorie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Ryo/Jin, PG</i><br/>For <span class="ljuser i-ljuser i-ljuser-deleted"></span><a href="http://pressclose.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://pressclose.livejournal.com/"><b>pressclose</b></a> for hols '09, originally posted <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/je_holiday/76323.html">here</a>. Thank you <i>so much</i> to everyone who helped me out with this, including (but not limited to) Amy, Brina, Britt, Da, P-suke and Zoe ^^ I don't know how this would have turned out without you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Times Jin Fails...

Christmas isn't a time Ryo is particularly fond of. He doesn't like the fake cheer in everyone's voices, the annoying jingles that play constantly on the radio, or the garish tinsel and obnoxious lights everywhere he looks.

He's never been much of a gift-giver, either. If he sees something he thinks a friend will like, he'll buy it for them regardless of the time of the year. But he refuses to go searching for gifts - and normally ending up with things no-one really wants anyway - just because it's Christmas. As such, he doesn't expect other people to get him anything, either. He certainly doesn't want a whole host of gifts that he has no use for - he refuses to admit that the stool Yamapi had given him last year with a cackle has ever come out of the cupboard, not even to change that light bulb that he could never quite reach.

That doesn't stop them trying, though. He's grown used to his bandmates' attempts to shop for him each year - one day, they might actually get his size right - and their subsequent failure - Ryo still doesn't know _why_ Koyama had thought a wok bigger than his stove would be a good idea.

The one and only person he can rely on to stand by him during his Humbug Phase each year is, regrettably, Jin. He Ryo can't remember the last time Jin bought someone a Christmas present - probably back when his mother still did his shopping for him. Even now, he's not convinced that she doesn't.

Jin takes him for dinner on his birthday, buys him drinks when they go out together, and thinks Ryo doesn't notice that new picks and blank music sheets magically appear in his guitar case if he mentions needing some, but he's never given Ryo a little box wrapped in revolting(ly cute) paper.

As such, when Jin hands him a cellophane-wrapped CD with an offhand, "Thought you'd like this," one afternoon, Ryo doesn't think anything of it, glancing at the cover and handing it back to Jin.

"Idiot, I've got it already."

Jin looks gobsmacked - which, to a person less familiar with him than Ryo considers himself to be, just looks slightly gormless - and takes the CD back.

"Oh... Okay..." is all he says, before turning on his heel and leaving.

"Ryo-chan!" Koyama chides, "How rude! You can't just turn away a gift!"

Ryo scoffs, "That wasn't a gift. It's Jin, he probably forgot he had it already and bought it again. Or decided he didn't like it."

"It still had the wrap on." Ryo's never appreciated Shige's astounding ability to state the obvious.

"What CD was it?" Tegoshi pipes up, and Ryo softens slightly.

"Just the new Chilli Peppers album," he says, and Tegoshi's eyes widen.

"Really?!" He exclaims, "But that only came out today! How did you get it so early?!"

Ryo doesn't try asking why Tegoshi knows - he's long given up trying to find out how Tegoshi does the things he does - and shrugs instead.

"I wanted the American version, so I bought it online. I thought it had been out for ages here, too."

"Jin doesn't really like the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, ne," Yamapi murmurs offhandedly, eyes flicking back and forth as he memorises the script in his lap, "He went through Ryo-chan's entire CD collection last week to make sure he didn't have it already. I guess he must have missed it, ne. Silly Bakanishi."

"I... left it in my car..." Ryo says almost to himself, and, feeling something heavy settle in his gut, wonders if this is what guilt feels like.

-

When Ryo leaves for work the next day, there’s an small box wrapped in gaudy Christmas paper sitting on his doorstep. There’s no label, and experience has him eyeing it carefully, before (when he doesn’t hear ticking and trusts it isn’t going to blow up in his face) taking it with him, unopened, and leaving it with the girl at reception to get it examined. After Yamapi had received a doll made with real bits of skin and hair, there's no telling what some of the more psychotic fans think they'll appreciate.

It’s returned to him before lunch, with the paper folded neatly inside the box next to a ticket to Tokyo Disney, and a note with the date and time written in neat, precise lettering. It isn’t handwriting he’s familiar with – not that he spends much time looking at his friends’ handwriting – but the little smiley face at the end of the note has him ruling out anyone close to him straight off the bat.

But... Tokyo Disney. Secretly, Ryo’s always wanted to go, but as a child he was always too busy – constantly getting stuck with souvenirs and photographs and exciting tales of what everyone else had done – and now, even when he does have a day off, he’s not only too tired to want to do much more than sleep, he’s also an _adult_. Nishikido Ryo does not admit to wishing with all his heart for a trip to Tokyo Disney, not to anyone.

It’s just a coincidence that the date happens to be next weekend. The weekend before Christmas. The only weekend in the past four months Ryo has had free. Besides, there was no way of knowing who had the other ticket – there could be a crazed axe-murderer waiting for him for all he knows. It was all just one big coincidence, because he hadn’t told anyone about it.

Well, maybe one person.

After one beer too many, it was hard to deny Jin anything when faced with his coaxing in slurred Japanese-English, and Ryo had all but forgotten about it in the morning. Until now.

But Jin, of all people, would know better than to leave an unmarked box outside his apartment.

Wouldn't he?

-

The weekend comes and goes, and Ryo forgets all about the ticket sitting on his dresser.

Jin is in a foul mood on Monday morning. He won’t tell anybody why – not that many people are brave enough to ask – and just glares at Ryo when the other man laughs and asks if his advances had been snubbed.

It’s only when Jin’s eyes turn from furious to devastated that Ryo remembers the ticket, remembers Jin’s grin when he’d left Friday evening, remembers the missed call on his phone Saturday afternoon and how Jin had stood them up Saturday night.

He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Jin’s gone.

-

Ryo doesn’t see him for the rest of the week, so it’s with some trepidation that he opens a mail from Jin Thursday afternoon – Christmas Eve.

_Be home for seven.  
Don’t eat._

Blinking gormlessly for a moment at Jin’s apparent nonchalance, Ryo wonders if maybe he’d misread everything last weekend, and it really was all just a host of strange coincidences. He doesn’t waste time in getting home after work, though – just the thought of Jin alone in his apartment, in his _kitchen_ has Ryo wishing he’d never given him that spare key. He liked his apartment, liked the decoration and the layout and that it wasn’t _on fire-_

Luckily, it’s only a small fire, contained to one of the saucepans Jin was trying to cook in, but watching the other man tip the blackened food into the bin with a sad set to his shoulders doesn’t make Ryo feel any better about the situation.

Jin’s pout soon fades, along with the memory of his failure, when their take-out arrives, and happily sets out enough containers to feed a small army. It’s only when Ryo’s got his mouth full of sweet and sour chicken that he thinks to ask.

“... Why were you setting fire to my kitchen?”

Jin’s mouth turns down at the corners and he chews on his noodles sadly before swallowing, “I wanted to make dinner.”

“Well, I sort of hoped you weren’t _trying_ to make a mess.”

“Very funny.” He sticks out his tongue, and Ryo takes another bite to hide his smile.

-

“Hey,” Jin says, once he’s cleared everything away – it’s the least he could do after nearly burning down the apartment, Ryo insists – “Can I play you something?”

Ryo shrugs, “Sure.”

Jin picks up Ryo’s guitar, and Ryo flinches instinctively at the thought of someone else putting their dirty fingers all over his baby, but Jin’s gentle with her as he cradles her in his lap and slides his hands over her strings. Ryo’s heart settles when Jin’s eyes drift closed, the lines of his face smoothing out as he begins to play.

The melody is soft and sweet, each note curling and dancing around the next until Jin’s woven a tune so beautiful it makes Ryo ache. Then he starts to sing, voice so quiet and serene and pure, words falling from his tongue like they’ve been struggling to break free all this time, flowing into one another seamlessly.

Jin sings of hope and love, of happiness and warmth and winding paths coming together in this life and the next. He sings of the past and the future, of gentle memories and beautiful dreams and the kind of devotion that lasts more than just a lifetime.

He sings from the heart, Ryo can hear it, feels it in the words that twine around him and Jin’s voice that slides across his skin like melting butter. It’s beautiful, captivating, and for once Ryo can’t fault him.

Gradually, Jin’s voice dies out, his fingers slowing to a stop, and Ryo’s apartment falls silent. Jin’s eyes stay closed for a long moment, eyelashes dark against his cheeks, and Ryo’s struck by just what it is the country sees in him.

Then he lets out a long breath and opens his eyes, gaze swimming with a hundred different things, and Ryo’s heart leaps into his throat.

“Well?” Jin almost sighs, and even his voice sounds different.

Jaw working awkwardly, Ryo’s acid instinct kicks in before he has time to look deep enough into Jin’s eyes, to listen hard enough to his voice, before his brain has time to tell him what Jin’s displaying for him on a plate.

“It needs a lot of work before you can use it. Your chords are messy, the lyrics are weak, and it might help if you could stay in tune for more than a few seconds.”

Ryo knows it was a mistake before he’s even finished speaking, but it’s too late, the devastation glistening in Jin’s eyes before he can take it back. He swallows, hard enough to hurt, and opens his mouth to say something else, _anything_ else, anything to take away that look of complete betrayal, but the words get stuck in his throat.

Jin’s shoulders sag and he gets to his feet, putting Ryo’s guitar back in its stand, “Just forget it.”

He watches as Jin scoops up his wallet and keys, pocketing his cell phone. He watches as Jin pulls on his jacket and shoves his feet into his boots. He watches as Jin turns to look at him one last time, eyes flicking away as soon as their gazes lock, and watches as Jin pulls his lips in and puffs out his cheeks, the way Ryo’s seen him do whenever he’s nervous.

He almost watches as Jin opens the door and leaves, but something inside kicks him into action, and he scoops up his guitar.

“Hey, Jin.”

Jin turns slowly, and Ryo sees a flash of hope cross his face, “Hm?”

“She’s pretty out of tune,” Ryo says, fiddling with the pegs, “I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jin’s mouth twitch, and he takes off his boots again, “Should I try again?”

Trying to shrug nonchalantly, Ryo sets the guitar back down and takes a step closer, “If you think I should hear it again.”

Jin bites his lip in a show of nerves Ryo isn’t used to, “Do you _need_ to hear it again?”

Jin’s tone is heavier than his words, and Ryo gets the impression that there is a lot more than Jin’s confidence in his song at stake here. The other man has always worn his heart on his sleeve, and now is no exception. It makes Ryo wonder if Jin suddenly got better at hiding his feelings, or if he just hadn’t been looking hard enough.

“I think I got it,” Ryo says, closing the gap a little more, “Although I might need to hear it again later, just to make sure.”

Jin’s smile is broad, his eyes shining with delight, and Ryo thinks this look is much nicer than before on him.

As the last of the space between them disappears, and Jin’s hands come to rest on Ryo’s forearms, Ryo’s watch beeps midnight.

_Merry Christmas._

Jin shakes.

His hands shake, his legs shake, even his breath on Ryo’s cheek shakes and shudders out against his skin. He hasn’t seen Jin this nervous since... since ever, and Ryo’s protective streak wants to show itself, wants to soothe away Jin’s anxiety and promise him that whatever he does, it’s alright. Jin’s nothing if not brave in these situations, though, and Ryo doesn’t get a chance to do anything heroic before Jin’s mouth is on his, hesitant and unsure but soft and firm all the same.

This time, it’s Ryo’s turn to shudder, and he places a hand on Jin’s shoulder to steady himself as his eyes flutter closed.

It might just be the best Christmas yet.


End file.
